Such A Simple Gesture
by Tadashi
Summary: I don't know why this bothers me, but it does. Perhaps it's because I spend most of my waking hours focusing on the most minute of details for our big plans, but whatever the reason, I felt compelled to mend the situation. Ferb's POV, One-shot


This is an alternate interpretation to the beginning of the episode _Invasion of the Ferb Snatchers_. Rather than have Candace come and watch the movie with them, I thought up my own (slightly fluffy) version of what I would have liked to see. I borrowed some of the actual script, but things go back to normal in the end. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Dan & Jeff own the series, I own this story.

* * *

"_Last night's meteor might not have been as innocent as we thought. Look what happened to Doctor Zachary!"  
_

_The curtain opens to reveal a man's head in a jar._

_DUN DUN DUN!_

"Cool!" Phineas grinned and we high-fived, though I was about to grab some popcorn. No sooner had we completed the gesture that the movie's heroine let out a horrified shriek.

Candace stomped in, in a matter of seconds, clearly annoyed at having been disturbed. "All right, what are you two up to?"

"Watching the '_Invasion of the Human Overlords_' marathon. They're playing all five movies tonight!" Phineas answered with his usual smile while I resumed helping myself to a handful of popcorn.

"Is that all? Pfft. Well, enjoy your lame colorless marathon. I'm heading back," and with a careless wave of her hand, she went back to her room.

I suppose I'd gotten so absorbed in using the movie as a distraction that I nearly jumped when I heard an indignant yet playful, "Ferb! Did you eat the _whole bowl_ of popcorn?"

It appears that I'm heading back to the kitchen.

* * *

One freshly popped bag of popcorn and soda refill later, I noticed that Phineas was starting to look a little sleepy. It's only about 11 o'clock: this is about the time of night when he gets tired anyway, and bedtime is usually not far off.

As if sensing my gaze, he piped up. "I'm not tired, honest."

"Hmm."

I'm afraid that's what they all say, dear boy, and I know you all too well. The first movie isn't even over yet, and you're already starting to nod off. I suppose now's a good time to take away the popcorn, before it gets spilt. He handed it off without a word, and I put it on the little table beside the couch.

"_Doctor! Your head is attached! You're human again!"_

As if this were his queue, Phineas dropped onto the couch with a muffled thump and a light snore. Thank goodness he'd brought a pillow on which to rest his head, and a blanket to keep warm. Although, I had to pull up the blanket a little, so that he'd be more comfortable. I am, after all, his brother.

The sleeping Perry, meanwhile, went completely unfettered.

* * *

I'd settled into the couch as well, resting my face in my hand lazily. I felt obliged to watch the rest of the movies, so I could recount them to Phineas, but he had made it into quite a chore by falling asleep at the end of the first of five movies. But the more I watched, the more the people on the screen became increasingly blurred, and I knew I wouldn't be able to stay awake for much longer.

My attention was drawn back to Phineas when he suddenly stretched his arms up over his head, and with a great, sleepy huff, let them fall where they may. In the commotion, Perry awoke, irritated, and scampered off, presumably to a place where he needn't worry about shifting bedmates.

I must say, there's a sensible loss of grace when one sleeps with their mouth hanging open, but who bothers to judge the technique of those who are sleeping? Let's be honest, here; who among us is awake at one o'clock in the morning to witness their brother sleeping? Aside from me, of course. No one, that's whom.

Since I'm now quite awake, I might as well describe the rest of my surroundings. The TV room is quite dark, but for the dull glowing and drone of the television, and the house is dead silent. Of course, everyone but I went to bed at a sensible hour.

I rub my eyes to get some clarity, and I'm considering heading upstairs to sleep in my own bed. But it would be selfish of me to leave Phineas alone, and it would be rude of me to wake him. It appears that I'm staying here tonight.

I cast him a sideways glance, and that's when I notice it – Phineas' right arm was hanging off the side of the couch.

I don't know why this bothers me, but it does. Perhaps it's because I spend most of my waking hours focusing on the most minute of details for our big plans, perhaps I'm secretly obsessed with symmetry, or perhaps it's because that the sleeping position he's in looks genuinely uncomfortable; but whatever the reason, I felt compelled to mend the situation.

It's a simple enough task, compared to what I normally do: take the arm, and move it somewhere else. It doesn't matter where, so long as it stays on or beside him. Yet when I got up off the couch, reached out, and took his hand in my own, something about it felt... unusually pleasant. The feeling that we're actually _holding hands_ right now is somehow more distinct than any of the previous physical contact that I can recall having with him, or with anyone, for that matter. There seems to be something so... significant about this. I can't be sure of what it is. I need to rationalize about this.

The last time that I touched his hand in a sort of _meaningful _way was back when we were attempting to convince Candace to assist us in re-forming Love Handel. But that situation was nothing like this. Here I am, in the dead of night, holding my sleeping brother's hand and I'm actually _enjoying_ it! Clearly, I must be strange. Everyone thinks I'm strange, mostly because I don't talk much. I choose not to talk simply because, actually, I don't _like_ to.

You know, nobody's ever even let me finish that sentence... nobody, that is, except Phineas. He talks to me all day long (well, he talks to _everybody_ all day long), yet he never expects even a single word from me. I always respond to him, mostly by hand gestures or by starting a project, but I do talk to him sometimes. Now that I think about it, most of my verbal replies occur when we're alone together. It's easy to open up to him, but not as much as when we're in public. I'm more receptive when he's around, and he's _always_ around, because we spend almost every minute of our days together. That's how it's been ever since I can remember. It's as though there's some strange, inexplicable force out there, and it's telling me that holding his hand isn't something strange, or intrusive, or incorrect. We care for each other very much, and so it just feels _right_.

... It's curious how much meaning can be extracted from such a simple gesture, isn't it?

I ease Phineas' hand onto his chest, moving away lightly onto the other end of the couch in preparation of sleep. I look back at him one last time before curling up for the night. He shifts again, digging into the couch, but he almost looks happier than he did before. I pull up my own blanket as I lay. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

* * *

A little _ping _sets my brain and I into motion automatically. It must be seven a.m. – Phineas never fails to wake up at that hour. He's even beaten our alarm clock by mere seconds. And so, if he's up, then I am too, prepared for anything. Six hours of sleep is still enough for me to work with.

Normally, he starts walking and talking immediately, but this morning is different. He stretches, yawns loudly, and stays on the couch.

"Morning, Ferb... looks like we fell asleep watching that movie, huh?" his eyes are laden with apology.

I shake my head, responding to his emotions rather than his words. It's nothing to feel sorry about. What happened last night couldn't be helped.

I move off the couch and begin my day by folding up my blanket, setting my own pillow atop it, and re-adjusting the couch cushions. As I do so, Phineas continues to talk.

"You know what? I had a good dream last night."

I stop momentarily, a cushion poised to be fluffed. I'd like to hear about this. I wonder if it relates to me...

"... But I can't remember what it was! Can you believe that? Normally, I'm really good at remembering dreams, but this one's a total blank. Even so... I know that it was a good one, Ferb, because it made me feel warm and happy when I woke up this morning." He smiled warmly, "Well, happier than usual, I mean. It's cool, though, to wake up feeling like that."

I nod, and internalize a small relieved sigh. Maybe that twinge of disquiet was for nothing. He could have had a happy dream that wasn't caused by me, after all. Of all the places for my influence to affect him, you'd think that the land of dreams would be strictly off-limits.

He climbs off the couch, and I quickly resume tidying it.

"Hey, you know what we should do? We should build a device that projects your dreams like a movie! I'd love to get back to that dream from last night and see what it was about." Hmm, this could be the early stages of today's project... If we get to work immediately, I can possibly have it ready by the time we go to bed tonight.

Perry chirps suddenly, apparently having walked over in search of food.

"Oh, hey Perry! Looks like it's time for breakfast, huh? Come on Ferb, let's get something to eat... and maybe a wardrobe change. I feel kind of icky after having slept in my clothes." I nod my agreement.

Just as we begin to walk out of the TV room, a tremendous crash from the backyard instantly attracts our attention. We rush to the sliding glass door, slightly panicked yet terribly excited, wondering what new prospects could come from the foreign metallic debris piled up in the yard.

"Ooh, that looks like a spaceship! Ferb, I know what we're gonna do today!"

* * *

**THE END**

This was my first foray into P&F fanfiction, and I think it turned out pretty well. Please leave me a review, if you're so inclined. Later days!


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